Land of the Wee Folk
by The Phantom
Summary: As time wore on and ages passed, the Shire remained rich and green. But the name changed; it became Shireland, which was gradually shortened to... Ireland. Home of the Little People.


Disclaimer: I don't Hobbits. I am, however, a leprechaun, so ha. Behold my jig of victory. 

Author's Notes: In the beginning of The Hobbit, the text runs as such:

"But what is a Hobbit? I suppose they need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People… the ordinary, everyday sort [of magic] which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like us come blundering along…"

Whereas in the Prologue of the Lord of the Rings it says, 

"Hobbits are an unobtrusive but very ancient people, more numerous formerly than they are today…"

So then of course, the Hobbits are still with us. But where? Where would they be? The Shire is a land of green rolling hills… where the Wee Folk play… 

This poem is lovingly and utterly dedicated to Amarth, who nurtured and cared for this plot bunny and gently reminded me of its' existence until I finally wrote it. Sorry, girl; I tried to get it out by St. Patrick's Day, but I was too busy playing pranks on me little brothers. So, Amarth, this one's for you!

Land of the Wee Folk

In Ireland, the grass grows green

And the hills roll long and proud

In grassy knells; the pealing bells

Are rich and strong and loud

One sunny day, a lad set out

He felt himself a rover

Beneath his feet, there was no street

But only grass and clover

His mind began a'wanderin'

And so he started talking

"Oh, what if I should chance to spy

A leprechaun out walking?"

His journey led him to the wood

'Twas no path, so he beat one

And still he spoke of those wee folk 

And how he'd like to meet one

Through branches and through murky trees

He walked the forest floor

Along he went, till was spent

And he could go no more

So sat he down beside a tree

In hopes to catch his breath

Lost he was here, and full of fear

That he should meet his death

When at this very moment came

A most peculiar sound

He would have run, but he was done

Exhausted on the ground

Laughter, it was! How very odd

That in this lonely wood

He did not hear a fox or deer

But someone laughing good

The bushes parted, the lad fell back

Out came a little fellow!

His feet were bare, and on them, hair

His snappy vest was yellow

He cocked his head and scratched his chin

And said, "Well, ain't that a sight!"

The lad felt numb; he was struck dumb

His mouth closed up in fright

The fellow did not notice

Or at least, that's how it seemed

The lad thought on; a leprechaun!

'Twas more than he had dreamed

"Excuse me, sir," the lad choked out

The fellow tipped his head

"But, be you one… er, leprechaun?"

And that was all he said

The fellow laughed again and smiled

"My lad, you be mistaken!

That be our name when Big Folk came

But not the one we've taken!"

"Then what are you?" the lad was dazed

"If not a leprechaun?"

"Ah, once our name was known with fame

But now it's nearly gone…"

"How old be you?" the fellow asked

The lad said "I am nine."

"Not even a Tween!" What did that mean?

The lad could not divine

"You're harmless, then." This must be good

The fellow seemed to feel

The lad smiled once, but felt a dunce

This simply wasn't real

"Yes, a leprechaun am I,

If that's what you would call me

But truth be told, that term is old

It's starting appall me

Not always 'leprechauns' were we

But always we're the Wee Folk…"

The lad tried his best to all digest

These funny words that he spoke

"Hobbits, we were! In days long past

Not 'little leprechaun'

Yes, Hobbit's a name we wore without shame

But now those days are gone."

"But sir," said the lad, "What mean you, 'we'?

You mean that there are more?"

"Of course, my lad, there's more to be had

Just like the days of yore."

The fellow paused and thought a bit

A twinkle filled his eyes

"Well lad, I've thought, and you have got

The faith, which is a surprise.

Not many people still believe 

That Little Folk exist

And so we'll pass, swallowed by grass

But worse, we won't be missed."

"But I believe!" the lad cried out

"I've always known it's true!"

The fellow slapped his hands and clapped

"You know lad, I like you!

Your faith deserves reward, I think

That you should know us real

Come with me, and you will see

And hear and think and feel

Things you've never felt before

Just follow, or take my hand."

And so the boy was filled with joy

As they walked across the land

The tiredness that he had known

Had passed beyond recall

Now all he felt, and saw, and smelt

Were green things, fresh and tall

Through the trees unnaturally green

And on a little while

They came at last, the dazed lad gasped

The fellow cracked a smile

A party went on in the wood!

And leprechauns were all!

Or, Hobbits, the name, but all the same

The Little People, he'd call

The lad stepped back and blinked his eyes

Another Hobbit came

He made a bow, and straightening now

Said Merry was his name

Not Merry the first, of course, of course

But from a long and noble line 

The first, he went by Magnificent

And he'd had adventures fine

The party wore its' way along

The music wove a spell

The Hobbits danced, the lad entranced

Joined in and did it well

They told him tales of worlds gone by

Of all things Hobbits had done

Two Hobbits brave, the world they saved

Quenched darkness, woke the Sun

The hours passed like wind in spring

And still they talked and told

How the Land of Ire was once the Shire 

In happy days of old

At last the sun began to set

The lad jumped up and cried,

"I shouldn't roam! I must get home!"

Then he felt odd inside

The vision of Hobbits before him swirled

His vision wavered fleetly

They smiled and waved, so happy and brave

Then disappeared completely

At last the lad came to his senses

The sun was high in the sky

He stood on the road, not a mile from his home

And not an hour had gone by 

Had it been real? Had he been there? 

With the Wee Folk of the land?

His blinked eyes, and in surprise

Saw a shamrock in his hand

The grand green space of Ireland

Hides Little People in its' hills

If we believe, then they won't leave

And always stay they will

So next time you see Ireland

Or think of leprechauns

For every heart that has faith on their part

The Little Folk live on

~ The End 


End file.
